


Daydreamer

by pompeypearly



Category: Smallville
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 09:06:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2575928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pompeypearly/pseuds/pompeypearly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chloe is forced to entertain herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daydreamer

Forty-five minutes.

 

Forty-five fucking minutes.

 

That’s how long Oliver and Bruce had been arguing for. 

 

It had been ten minutes since AC and Victor had disconnected their comm links, and twenty minutes since Dinah and Bart had left the room. Clark had finally given up three minutes ago, and left for the Daily Planet, leaving just the three of them.

 

Unfortunately for her, she practically lived in Watchtower, and she had nowhere to go. Besides, if this turned into a real fight, there had to be someone present to split them up. At the moment, she was favouring the use of a stun gun to grab their attention.

 

It had started from the most innocent of conversations, running through the team’s most recent missions. Perhaps it was her fault, making sure she recorded the tiniest of details, but how could mentioning some of their gadgets turn so quickly into a pissing contest?

 

At first, it was all about their toys. Who had the faster weapons, who handled their gadgets with more dexterity, what was the most effective in taking down an opponent.

 

If Chloe heard one more fucking mention of Bruce’s jet, or Oliver’s plans for an improved ‘Arrowjet’ version, she was going to torch them both. If she died in the explosion, it would certainly improve her quality of life.

 

Their heated debate had quickly escalated, and the businessmen showed their competitive heads from beneath all the leather. 

 

They argued about who had the better R&D, whose departments were more innovative, cost effective, and desirable. They had even argued over the term ‘green’, with Bruce preferring the term ‘environmentally responsible’, not daring to associate such an important topic with Oliver’s signature colour.

 

The coffee mug next to her was long empty and cold, and she was desperately in need of a refill, but Chloe feared moving from her desk in case they tried to drag her into the argument again.

 

She half tuned into the argument in front of her. It was a waste of time even trying to continue her work until at least one of these men gave up and left the building.

 

“Groundbreaking? I doubt it, Queen. It’s probably just some dumb-ass, non lethal projectile. Knowing Queen Industries, it’s probably a boxing glove that attaches to one of your precious arrows, just incase those poor crooks have an allergy to sedatives.”

 

Aaaaand she was out again. She folded her arms on the desk in front of her, and rested her chin on them. 

 

She didn’t have much time for daydreaming these days, but lord only knew she was an expert back in high school.

 

Chloe let her mind wander, and began making a mental list of things she needed to complete by the end of the week. She had to go grocery shopping, because Lois was bound to forget. She needed to do a system cleanup, and while that was running it would probably be a good idea to get a start on Watchtower’s housekeeping duties. 

 

She was sure that the team believed there was a super secret cleaning agency, only employed by the vigilantes and heroes of the world, keeping their secret lairs spick and span.

 

In reality, it was Chloe, a mop, and several microfibre cloths.

 

Her gaze drifted down to Oliver’s boots, and the mud they were tracking on her polished floor.  With a sigh she realised that her cleaning duties were being bumped towards the top of the list.

 

Mud was a bitch. It would get everywhere, and if left to dry…

 

Yeah, she’d found mud in some awkward places before. Even the smell brought back cringeworthy memories of a summer a few years ago. She hoped to God that Lois had kept her end of the bargain, and burned every photograph that existed.

 

If those photos saw the light of day, she would lose all credibility, and she knew for a fact some members of the team would never let her live it down.

 

As embarrassing as it was, it was still a good memory. It had been a fun summer, as were most times she spent with Lois as a teenager. Her cousin had been celebrating getting into college (or so she’d thought), and had taken her to a party being thrown in Metropolis.

 

That should have been the first warning bell there. 

 

It had been an afternoon of warm sun, cold drinks, and unfortunately, fraternity organised entertainment.

 

Chloe really hadn’t wanted to be in a mud wrestling competition, but Lois had entered them into a ‘tag team’ contest vocally. 

 

She’d been stripped of her sarong, by her cousin no less, and pushed into a pool of thick, sticky mud. At first she tried to laugh it off and make her way out, but the girl in there with her was obviously trying to impress. Her name had been Dawn something, and had grabbed Chloe from behind and thrown her into the mud, face first.

 

It was only once she had accidentally socked the girl in the jaw that the hair pulling had commenced. Lois had lept into the ‘ring’ with a gusto, and put those hours watching professional wrestling to good use. Dawn’s partner had ended up just as bruised and trodden as her friend, both of them coughing mud from their mouths, as Lois raised Chloe’s own bruised arm in victory.

 

Looking across the desk to the two men in front of her, she decided that Oliver and Bruce could do with a mud wrestling ring of their own. Let them duke out their attitudes, while having to contend with the frustratingly slippery mud hindering their movements.

 

Chloe smirked. Maybe she could get rid of their leather uniforms, and let them have at it in the middle of watchtower. She was sure there was room enough to create a similar set up to that summer.

 

Television networks would pay her millions for the footage, and it would be something for her, Lois and Dinah to enjoy over a bottle of wine.

 

They could even gag their mouths, so the irritating verbal judo wouldn’t spoil the visual splendor before her. 

 

She mentally undressed the two men arguing in front of her. One of the benefits of practically living in Watchtower, and being the unofficial first aider to a team of heroes, was that she got to enjoy their toned, muscled flesh from time to time. Her imagination didn’t need to embellish on any of the details.

 

Oliver would probably be wearing his signature green boxers, but for fantasy purposes she changed them mentally for boxer briefs. Her imagination didn’t need any help, but what was the point if you wouldn’t allow yourself a little help. Not that she thought there would be anything little about Oliver. 

 

Keeping up with their differences, she imagined Bruce to wear black briefs.

 

And was she really imagining a semi-naked, mud wrestling match between these two men? They were her friends and colleagues. Surely she should have more respect for them then to oogle their chiseled bodies.

 

“You are being absolutely ridiculous!” Oliver screamed.

 

Nope, the fantasies were better. They talked and wore a lot less.

 

Chloe bit her bottom lip as she imagined thighs coated with the slippery substance, while hard muscles grappled and fought. She’d always loved Oliver’s arms, and wondered what it would be like to run her hands up them, feeling them ripple, as she coated them further. 

 

Somehow, in her mind, she had taken Bruce’s place and she was doing some wrestling of her own with the green archer. She tried to justify the replacement with a reality check. Despite the personality he projected to the world, he was more like his alter ego, and would probably refuse to participate.  

 

Chloe doubted Oliver would take it easy on her, taking advantage of his experience in hand-to-hand combat. She would be on her back in seconds, and Oliver would follow her to the ground, thanks to all that lubrication.

 

She imagined the mud splashing onto the floor as they landed...much like the mud coating the floor now.

 

With an unhappy sigh, she was almost pulled from her daydream at the thought of having to scrub and clean floors.

 

Surely there was a way she could make the cleaning more enjoyable. 

 

As much fun as Oliver would have being dirty, she was sure he’d enjoy cleaning up just as much. Well, maybe not as much as she would. 

 

He wouldn’t be able to go back to the clocktower covered in mud, and his underwear would be useless. He’d have to slowly peel those boxer briefs down his legs, obviously to prevent flicking the mud, and therefore creating more mess. Not for her enjoyment at all. Nuh uh.

 

Oliver practically lived with his shirt off, and she had a firm belief that his lack of shyness would remain, even if he was without a single stitch covering him. 

 

She would have to help him, and he wouldn’t want to make more work for her, so he’d let her clean him up, right there in the middle of Watchtower. 

 

The soapy bucket of water that would have been used on the floors, would instead be slowly poured over his head. The bubbles would make trails over the contours of his body, and she would happily watch as they made their way south. She would find the bucket’s twin, and liberate the sponge within it. 

 

A good friend would help, after all. How would he explain returning to Queen Industries with a patch of dirt behind his ear. Or between his legs.

 

She’d always been proud of her thoroughness, and this would be no exception. There wouldn’t be a speck of dirt safe on his body. Not from her bubbles, or sponge...or possibly tongue.  

 

Chloe shook her head. Maybe she was going too far. 

 

Hang on, this was her fantasy, and it wasn’t as if he could read her mind. 

 

She licked her lips, practically tasting the soap, the water, and Oliver’s warm skin. Chloe knew he ran a little hot-blooded. She’d patched up enough of his wounds to know that even when he patrolled through snow, and biting winds, he always returned with skin that was practically steaming. 

 

Maybe he was warm all over. She imagined that if she knelt before him, with the water forming droplets in his hair as he looked down at her, he’d feel just as warm if she took him in her mouth.

 

Chloe sat bolt upright, almost knocking her mug from the desk.

 

The daydreaming fantasy had just taken a one way trip into the road called ‘Too Far’. Her cheeks felt warm and flushed, and she was almost certain that she’d need to change her underwear before she left the building.

 

“Chloe? Are you alright?”

 

“Huh?” She asked, trying to bring herself completely back to reality. 

 

Both Oliver and Bruce were staring at her, but she couldn’t quite manage eye contact with them. She shouldn’t have felt guilt over her little daydreaming session.

 

“You knocked over your mug.”

 

“Maybe that was my way of trying to get your attention.” She lied. “Looking at my watch, you’ve been arguing for over an hour. I think it’s time to put the rulers away.”

 

In her fantasy, she hadn’t needed a ruler to do the measuring. She’d had much more creative ways of mapping out Oliver's anatomy.

 

Feeling herself blush all over again, she stood up and straightened her desk.  “Just...call it a day guys.”

 

She walked towards the bathroom with the intention of cleaning herself up, because having to confront those two in damp panties was just embarrassing. That, and she needed to compose herself, so she could look them both straight in the eyes.

 

It felt safe to return to the main room after ten minutes, as clean and as fresh as she could be. She was surprised to find relative silence, with only the occasional  thunk of an arrow hitting a practice board.

 

“Bruce left?”

 

“Apparently, the Batbrain has better things to do with his Saturday evening.” Oliver said as he lined up his shot.

 

“But standing and arguing with you for an hour was worth it?” Chloe asked, trying not to distract him.

 

Oliver lowered his bow and turned to look at her.

 

“I’m sorry about that.”

 

“I should be used to it. At least the rest of the team could leave, I had to stay to prevent bloodshed.” She said as she picked up her empty mug, intent on giving herself  that much needed refill. “I have enough to clean up around here.”

 

Oliver looked down at his boots to see the trail of mud he’d left over her floors.

 

“Shit… I’m sorry. I didn’t realise.”

 

Chloe shrugged and went back to pouring her coffee.

 

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll make it up to you - the mud and arguments.”

 

With almost a stunned silence, she watched Oliver retrieve the mop and bucket from its cupboard. She didn’t even think he knew where they belonged, so she just stared as she followed him with her eyes, as he added cleaning fluid and then hot water.

 

Clearly not a man used to cleaning...well, anything, he managed to spill some of the bucket’s contents onto his black undershirt as he removed the bucket from the sink.

 

“Damn it!” Oliver cursed.

 

He put the bucket on the floor and proceeded to remove his shirt. Oliver then threw the wet garment into the sink before proceeding to pick up his mop and bucket, and he got straight to work, without a complaint or comment.

 

Chloe had no complaints either. Smiling, she leaned back against the counter, crossing her legs as she sipped from her mug. She stayed there for a good while, enjoying her hot beverage, and the sight of a half naked Oliver Queen cleaning her floors.

  
Fantasies and daydreams were good, but nothing could beat the real thing.

 


End file.
